The Shattered Court

by M. J. Scott

  “Does the book say why the binding didn’t work?” Sophie said.

  “Magic’s a funny thing,” Lord Sylvain said. “A slippery beast, easily put off course.” He opened the book and turned the pages carefully. “Ah, yes. Here it is. This is what I suspected happened to you.” He passed Sophie the book, and she saw it was open to the page titled “Amplification.” She started to read. This copy wasn’t faded and illegible. No, the words were clear as day. And what they described sounded a lot like what Madame de Montesse had talked about. Two magics being bound together. Both parties growing stronger as a result. The book described rituals using blood or sex. Well, they had shared both of those, she supposed, even if it had been accidental. “You think we’re bound to each other in this manner?” Sophie asked. She passed the book to Cameron.

  “Seems the most likely explanation. Have you tried any blood magic, lad? Since the two of you first . . . ?”

  Cameron shook his head, eyes fixed on the book. He studied the open page, then turned it quickly and continued reading.

  “Well, I advise trying it out somewhere deserted the first time you do. You may be stronger than you expect. And you, milady, you might be able to do things that aren’t strictly earth magic. If you can, you can never let the Domina find out. She might be wary of you now, but she’ll do her best to get rid of you if you break that big a taboo here. The temple has spent centuries convincing Anglion women that they need only earth magic and that they should give the temple part of their power. You don’t want to be the one who threatens that.”

  Sophie could only agree. “I wouldn’t know where to begin to even try another art,” she said.

  “Good.” Lord Sylvain nodded firmly. “I suggest you keep it that way.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “What are you giving Sophie for her birthday?” Liam asked the next day as they walked down to the palace stables. Sophie was at the temple, being schooled for her big moment at the party tomorrow, and wasn’t likely to reappear until evening. So Cameron had gone to lunch with his brothers, and then Liam had invited him down to the stables to look at a pair of carriage horses he was considering.

  “I have no idea,” Cameron said. He had been considering the matter of a suitable Ais-Seann gift for his wife since Eloisa had announced the ball. “She liked the earrings I gave her for a wedding gift, but the jeweler says he doesn’t have any more pearls to match, so I can’t make her a set.” Even if he could afford to. “I’d take her away somewhere, but it’s doubtful the queen would let her leave Kingswell whilst things are still unsettled.”

  “Probably not,” Liam agreed. “Though longer term, do you think you’ll want to stay in the capital?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t even had a chance to discuss such things.” He wouldn’t have considered the possibility of leaving the Red Guard two weeks ago, but now he was more worried about keeping Sophie safe than his career, such as it was. And keeping Sophie safe seemed to require getting her out of the capital as soon as he could. “Our estate is a long way from where she’s used to living.”

  “But she did grow up on an estate,” Liam said. “She hasn’t been in Kingswell all her life. She might prefer it.”

  “It’s a moot point if the queen won’t grant her leave to go,” Cameron said. “And it doesn’t help me solve the puzzle of her birthday present.”

  “Does she ride?” Liam asked.

  Cameron nodded. “Quite well.”

  “Well, Jeanne’s favorite mare—that very pretty gray—is pregnant. Goddess knows we don’t need any more horses here in town. Perhaps Sophie would like a foal? It will have good bloodlines and, one hopes, its mother’s looks. Both of you are welcome to use any of our horses, of course, if you need to.”

  “Thank you,” Cameron said. He had a gelding he rode when required for guard business, but since he’d been assigned to Eloisa’s men, he hadn’t often had occasion to ride. One of the sergeants kept the horse exercised, but Cameron had been feeling guilty about him. He wasn’t the most attractive beast in the world. Most of the court would have turned up their noses at his plain dun coat and broad face, but he was as reliable as sunrise, and that was more important than looks in an officer’s horse. “I’m sure Sophie would like to ride. When she can.”

  “This is hardly the marriage week you were expecting, I imagine,” Liam said. “Let us hope things quiet down after the party.”

  “Quite,” Cameron agreed. “But I think that’s going to depend on what else the Illusioners uncover. And how firmly the Domina is able to keep her claws in the queen.”

  Liam frowned. “Yes. That situation is not ideal. But Eloisa was always independent. I think she’ll strike out on her own path soon enough, once she’s had time to adjust to being queen.”

  Cameron wasn’t so convinced. If Eloisa could turn on one of her own ladies-in-waiting, she could do just about anything. He had a sudden inspiration about a present for Sophie. Or one he could give to her privately, at least.

  “I think you have to give her jewels,” Liam said. “If the party is going to be the spectacle they’re trying to make it, then the present has to be extravagant. I’ll give her the foal. You give her something pretty.” He paused as they reached the stable building. “There’s that set of emerald bracelets Mother wore. The ones with the gems set in the gold band? Jeanne doesn’t like them. She wouldn’t mind if you gave them to Sophie, I’m sure.”

  Cameron nodded agreement but decided there was something else he needed to buy for his wife: a gun.

  Cameron found Sophie seated at her dressing table looking somewhat frustrated as she held one of his earrings up to her ears.

  “Problem?” he asked, bending to kiss the curve where her neck met her shoulders. She smelled delicious, something spicy and warm rising from her skin. The dress she’d chosen for the ball was a rich green, like holly leaves, the neckline and hem edged with gold embroidery.

  “I want to wear these,” she said. “But I have to wear the queen’s necklace, and they don’t really match.”

  “Wear the necklace,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

  “I mind. I want to wear something of yours.” She put the earrings down with a sigh and picked up the necklace, looping it around her neck twice. The warm color of the pearls looked good against her skin and the dress, and he let himself admire her for a moment, thinking of the part of the party he was most looking forward to . . . the moment it was over and he could bring her back up here and take the dress off again. Then he remembered why he’d come to find her earlier than he’d promised.

  “As to that, I may have an answer to your dilemma.” He took the case Liam had given him out from his jacket pocket and put it down in front of her. “I’m supposed to give these to you at the ball, but I’d like you to see them now. Happy birthday.”

  “You didn’t have to get me a present. It’s not even really my birthday.”

  “I’ll spoil my wife when I choose, thank you very much,” he said with a grin.

  She smiled back up at him, the strain that had been shadowing her face for the last few days—despite his best efforts to distract her when he could—clearing. She opened the case, and the smile widened. “Oh. Oh, they’re beautiful.”

  “They were my mother’s,” he said. He leaned past her shoulder and picked up the topmost bracelet. “Here. Let’s see how they look.” He undid the clasp and slipped the emeralds onto her wrist. Then he repeated the process twice more.

  Sophie held her arm up, admiring the sparkle of light on the jewels. Liam had been right. They did suit her. Not wanting to spoil her happy mood, he decided he’d give her the gun later. Tomorrow even.

  “Thank you,” she said. She undid the bracelets after running her fingers over them a final time, put them back in the case, and handed it back to him. “Here. Take these before I change my mind and put them back on.” She smiled, a little ruefully. “I promise I’ll look surprised when you give these to me later.”

  “You�
�re most welcome,” he said. “Now you have to finish getting dressed. We have a party to attend.”

  Sophie entered the ballroom on Cameron’s arm, reminding herself to smile. After all, this ball was for her. Theoretically. In reality, it was about almost everybody else but her. And especially the queen.

  Just one night.

  She could make it through just one night. After this, she could do her best to just blend in and fade out of the queen’s and the Domina’s immediate attention. Having spent six hours at the temple yesterday, learning how to do what the Domina had deemed was a suitable party trick, she was heartily tired of feeling like a performing monkey to be trotted out for a show. Though the Domina probably would have been more patient with a monkey than she was with Sophie.

  But Sophie had gritted her teeth and done as she was asked with as big a show of goodwill and demure obedience as she could muster.

  The Domina had revealed a little of her true ambitions at the council meeting, and Sophie had no desire to be dragged into the dangerous game she was playing. She wasn’t going to assist any attempt to embroil the country in a war. A war that would cost the country dearly even if they won. Far better to continue as they were. Two countries with opposing ideals that left each other alone wherever possible. As long as Anglion was surrounded by oceans, there was no simple way for the wizards to overrun the place with their demon sanctii and take over. Anglion should be content with that. With freedom.

  Not the sort of things she wanted to be thinking of tonight. She made herself look at the room and the crowd instead. Eloisa had spared no effort, and the ballroom had been once again put back to its intended use. The chandeliers glowed with earth-lights and candles. The dancing light reflected in the crystal glasses and silver-edged china set on the tables that lined the long edges of the room. More candles flickered on the tables, rising from arrangements of white roses that filled the air with their scent. The white decorations served as the perfect backdrop for the court, decked out once more in all the colors of the rainbow for the occasion.

  They worked their way through the guests, moving toward the far end of the room to pay their respects to Eloisa, who was sitting at the high table with Lord Airlight and Margaretta and her husband. Sophie, as guest of honor, was supposed to take her place at the table as well, though she’d have preferred to sit with her parents. She and Cameron stopped in front of the table, and she curtsied as he bowed. As they rose, the room behind them fell silent. Eloisa rose.

  “We welcome our devoted servant, Sophia Mackenzie, and wish her every happiness on the occasion of her birthday and felicitations on her Ais-Seann.” The court broke into applause, and Sophie curtsied again. When she straightened, Eloisa was holding a long blackwood box about the length of two loaves of bread, though not nearly as high as a loaf might be. It was inlaid with silver, and small pearls and nacre formed a rolling wave across the lid.

  “Happy birthday, Sophia. May salt protect you and the goddess bless you,” Eloisa said with a smile that seemed, for a brief moment, like the old Eloisa.

  Sophie smiled back and took the box, then realized she’d have to give it to Cameron so she could open it. He took it happily, and she undid the latch and drew out a long supple roll of dark-brown leather. Memory jolted her, and she glanced up at Cameron. Unless she was mistaken, this was the roll of magical supplies that she had seen at Madame de Montesse’s shop the day of the attack. Had it been meant for her all along? That had to have been the height of irony.

  She withdrew the roll and untied it, opening it as far as she could without a surface to lay it on. Sure enough, the silver knives, the gold chain, and the other pouches peeked out at her. She smiled at Eloisa. “Thank you, Your Majesty. This is too kind.”

  Eloisa nodded at her and gestured to the empty seats at the table. Sophie tried not to sigh with relief. The first part of the night was done. Now she just had to pull off the Domina’s spectacle and everything would be all right. But first there was dinner to get through.

  Dinner took a long time, but with Lord Airlight on one side and Cameron on her other, Sophie didn’t have to speak directly to Eloisa.

  The high table was set along the end of the ballroom, perpendicular to the two rows of tables that traversed the edges of the room, so they were all seated on one side, facing the rest of the guests. The position made Sophie feel like she was on display, but it also limited the conversations that could take place. Being out of Eloisa’s direct gaze made things slightly less uncomfortable. So she managed to eat something of each of the myriad courses and make polite small talk with Lord Airlight when he and Cameron weren’t discussing obscure points of military history without any disasters. She waved away the wine, though. She wanted a clear head for what came next. She could have wine later.

  Eventually, Eloisa pushed away the last of the dishes—a ginger and honey sorbet—and rose from her chair. “It grows warm in here. We think a turn about the gardens before the dancing would be refreshing.”

  That was Sophie’s cue. She rose to follow Eloisa as the queen moved toward one of the doors leading out to the gardens. The court, following along behind them, was chattering curiously, and Sophie wished Cameron were beside her. His solid presence would give her the confidence to actually pull this off.

  The queen walked out into the darkened gardens—this part of the arrangements had nearly given the commander apoplexy—and Sophie was well aware just how many Red Guard were stationed out there in the darkness, guarding them all.

  Once the court had reassembled behind them, the murmurs turning puzzled at the lack of the usual lighting in the garden, Eloisa turned to Sophie. “Lady Sophia, we thought there would be more light from the moon this evening. This will never do. Perhaps you could lend some assistance in this matter?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” She hoped her voice didn’t reveal the extent of her nerves. She stepped forward and raised her hands. One long breath, then another as she focused. Then she sent her power out toward the first of the long double circle of torches ringing the gardens. It flared to life obediently, and as the court started to applaud, she kept her focus, feeling for the next torch, looking for the shimmer of magic that the blessed oil the torches were doused in gave off. To her relief, each one sprang to life in rapid succession until she came full circle and the last one, to the left of the queen, blazed to life.

  Unless she was mistaken, she’d lit all of them in less than a minute. More than a hundred torches. She felt a surge of satisfaction, and she turned and curtsied to Eloisa. When the Domina had first told her what she was to do at the ball, Sophie had half suspected the Domina wished her to fail. “I hope you find that to your liking, my queen.”

  Eloisa nodded, smiling again. As Sophie rose from the curtsy, she spotted the Domina standing just behind the queen. Where had she come from?

  Domina Skey’s expression seemed half respectful, half annoyed. Had Sophie been correct? Had the Domina been hoping Sophie would fail and disgrace herself? Well, if she had, then she had miscalculated. It was done now, and the torches were lit. The court had had their spectacle, and now she was going to try to enjoy her birthday party.

  Hours later, Sophie stepped off the dance floor with Cameron and fanned herself with her hands. “I think I need something to drink, my lord,” she said, smiling up at him. “You dance very enthusiastically.”

  “That’s the wild northerner in me,” he replied, smiling at her. “Wine?”

  “Yes, please.” She had already had several glasses, but with no more public stunts to perform, she would allow herself one more. “I’ll meet you at my parents’ table.”

  Cameron bowed and turned on his heel to fetch the drink. Sophie headed in the opposite direction. She had spoken to her parents earlier but not for very long. As she passed by one of the doors that led out to the garden, she caught a hint of a breeze and changed her mind. First a minute to herself in the cool night air, away from the stifling ballroom. Then she would go to her parents.<
br />
  The garden was definitely cooler than the ballroom. She apparently wasn’t the only one who thought so. The gardens were alive with couples and small groups strolling through the torchlit grounds, laughing and talking quietly. Perhaps she should go back and fetch Cameron. Take a turn through the grounds with him. Stop for a minute or two in some dark spot and indulge herself in kissing her husband.

  Smiling at the thought, she turned and went back inside. She wasn’t more than a few feet through the doors when a man stepped into her path.

  “Oh, look,” he said, sounding a little worse for wear. “It’s the little witch. Happy birthday, little witch.”

  She looked at him coolly. “Thank you, milord.” He was tall, though not as tall as Cameron, solidly built in a way that suggested it was starting to run to fat rather than muscle, brown haired. A white scar slashed through the very tip of his left eyebrow. She tried to place his face, but couldn’t bring a name to mind. In fact, she didn’t think she had ever seen him before. He wore a burgundy jacket, though. Burgundy was one of the Farkeep colors. Maybe he had come to court with the new Lord Farkeep.

  “Heard things about royal witches,” he continued, smiling at her. There was a definite slur in the way he said “witches.” Drunk, then.

  Sophie straightened. Drunk she could deal with. “Have you, milord? How fascinating. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my husband is waiting for me.” She stepped forward and around him. He shot out a hand and grabbed her.

  She froze, shocked. He definitely had to be new to court. No one with any experience of court protocol would lay a hand on a royal witch uninvited. “Let me go,” she said fiercely. She kept her voice low, not wanting a scene if she could avoid it. Drunk was one thing. Stupid was another.

  “That’s not very friendly, little witch. Thought witches were meant to be hot little things. How about you show me?”

  “I think not,” she said. She jerked her arm, but he didn’t let go. Instead his grip tightened, and she felt a sudden flicker of fear, followed by a flare of anger. She was a royal witch, goddess damn him, and she had put up with far too much lately to have any patience left for drunken imbeciles.